It Was A Murder, But Not A Crime
by sawyerzelda
Summary: This is a behind-the-scenes look at the women in the Cell Block Tango. Their individual stories, building up 2 the pt. where they shot their guys. Plz r&r! FINIS!
1. Pop

A/N: ok, ppl. this story is a behind-the-scenes look at the 6 merry murderesses of the Cook County Jail (Chicago, Illinois). there will only b 6 short chapters, so this story will probably b done soon (jinx). (also, i will include their lyrics of the song at the beginning of each chapter) so read on! plus, at the end, i'll ad the hubby's point of view right before he gets killed! MUA HA HA HAAAA!!!  
  
************  
  
You know how some people have these little habits that get you down? Like Bernie--Bernie he liked to chew gum.... no not chew--POP. So this one day I come home from work real irritated, and I'm lookin' for a little sympathy.... and there's Bernie. Lyin' on a couch and chewin. No, not chewin', POPPIN'. So I said to him, I said, 'You pop that gum one more time...' and he did. So I took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots...into his head.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Liz unlocked the door to her apartment. Immediately she was greeted by that familiar noise--Bernie popping his gum.  
  
"Bernie, would you STOP?" she asked, entering the living room, where he was lying on the couch reading a paper. "How many times do I have to tell you how annoying that gum-popping is? It sounds like....they're ripping cement up off the sidewalk!"  
  
"Calm down, honey," Bernie laughed. "I think you're overreacting here. It's just a little habit."  
  
"No, it's a big annoying habit," Liz growled, pulling out of the embrace Bernie tried to draw her into. "Just do me a favor and please don't pop your gum tomorrow. It's our anniversary, and I'd like to be able to hear myself think."  
  
"Sure doll, whatever you say," Bernie agreed. "So anyway, I was thinkin' maybe we could go down and see the Kelly sisters sing tomorrow."  
  
"Why, you wanna bring one of 'em home with you?" Liz asked. "You know, that Velma one is already married."  
  
"Hey, I'm only tryin' to do what you want here, doll--you don't wanna see the Kelly sisters, we don't havta see the Kelly sisters," Bernie said, blowing a bubble and letting it pop. Liz twirled around to glare at him. "What? I was just blowin' a bubble. Not poppin', nothin' to get sore at."  
  
"Yeah, well..." Liz sighed and crossed over to the kitchen. "Someday I oughta come up with something that bothers YOU, and see how you like it."  
  
"Sure, you do that, Lizzie," Bernie said.  
  
"I told you, I don't like bein' called Lizzie," Liz said through clenched teeth. "So cut it out, will you?"  
  
"Yeah, sorry," Bernie apologized, popping his gum again.  
  
"BERNIE!!" Liz shouted.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry," Bernie said. "It's tough to break a habit, though! I don't know how to stop!"  
  
Liz sighed and tried to concentrate on making dinner. But the occasional pop from Bernie made her drop the chopping knife she was carring. She wanted to throw it at his head, but silently began praying that one day he'd stop. Maybe it was just some kind of phase he was going through....  
  
The next day.....  
  
"It's nothing personal, Liz, really," said her boss, Mr. Flint. He leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. "But the agency feels that maybe you're getting a little--oh, I don't know....a little laid back. Like your taking your pay for granted type of thing, y'know?"  
  
"But Mr. Flint, I'm not," Liz said quietly.  
  
"That may be so, but there's a new wave of models coming in," Mr. Flint said lazily. "Young, beautiful, and with bodies to die for. Don't get the wrong idea, though, Liz--I'm not calling you ugly. You're an old favorite of mine, y'know?"  
  
"Then what, exactly, are you saying, Mr. Flint?" Liz asked through gritted teeth.  
  
"Well, the department figures that we ought to let you go," Mr. Flint answered. "You've been working for us for a real long time and all, and we need more spots for the new girls."  
  
"I'm getting fired?" Liz asked in disbelief.  
  
"Well....yes," Mr. Flint answered. "But don't worry about finding another job, Liz. I'm sure plenty of other agencies would kill to get their hands on you."  
  
"Seems like you're killing to get RID of me," Liz growled.  
  
"Don't get sore, baby, I just--"  
  
"I can take a hint," Liz said hotly. "Good-bye." She walked out of his office and slammed the door loudly behind her. Once she got outside of the building, she fell to the ground and began to cry.  
  
She'd been working at that agency for ten years, ever since she was thirteen. And suddenly they were just dropping her, like yesterday's newspaper, and old woman. She couldn't stand the thought of having to go home and tell Bernie she'd been fired.  
  
But he'd understand. Bernie always understood.....well, almost....  
  
*FLASHBACK*  
  
"Liz, can't you get anything right?!" Bernie shouted. "I don't see what's so hard about keeping a dog alive for a couple weeks!"  
  
"I'm tellin' you, Bernie, it wasn't my fault!" Liz screamed. "That dog of yours was just an idiot! He ran right into the street of his own free will, and then got run over by that bus car! It's not like I threw him on the track or anything!"  
  
"How did he get off his leash, weren't you watchin' him?!"  
  
"Of course I was! But a dog who wants freedom will stop at nothin' till he gets it! That Dane bit threw the leash like it was a piece of string!"  
  
Bernie angrily slammed his fist onto the table. "Liz, that was my prize winning dog you murdered!"  
  
"For the love of heaven, Bernie! I didn't kill him! I didn't do anything!"  
  
"I can't trust you with anything!" Bernie cried, slapping Liz roughly across the face. She fell back onto the couch behind her. He seemed undaunted when she moaned in pain. Then he ran outside the front door and didn't come back until the next morning.  
  
**PRESENT**  
  
Liz stood up and shivered. She didn't know why she had suddenly recalled that dark evening. A tear came to her eye and she hastily brushed it away. Bernie could just lose him temper sometimes, that was all. Besides, hadn't he come back and apologized for his behavior?  
  
But it was after that accident that Bernie began his habit of chewing. 'No,' Liz thought to herself. 'Not chewing, popping.' It was the most irritating noise in the entire world.  
  
Fumbling with her keys, Liz opened the front door. All she wanted right now was for Bernie to wrap his strong arms around her and tell her it would be all right. She saw him lying on the couch and chewin'. No, not chewin--  
  
"Popping!" Liz shouted. "Stop it!"  
  
"Hey, ain't you home early?" Bernie asked. "Is there a problem, doll?" He grinned and popped his gum again.  
  
Suddenly, Liz was filled with an undescribable hatred. She glared at him. "Bernie, if you pop that gum ONE more time...."  
  
And he did. "Whatcha gonna do, Liz?"  
  
Liz silently walked over to the fireplace and reached for the shotgun that hung over it on the wall. And she shot twice--into his head. Bernie's body went limp as it turned over slightly, and a colorless piece of gum dropped out of his gaping mouth.  
  
Then Liz suddenly realized the noise she'd made. She heard footsteps outside the room. "Did you hear that?" someone asked.  
  
"It sounded like a gun going off!"  
  
"Oh, somebody call the police!"  
  
Liz opened the door and saw a small throng of people gathered in front of it. She threw the gun aside and pushed through them, running down the hallway and out of sight.  
  
But she was glad she'd done it.  
  
*******from Bernie's point of view********  
  
I heard a noise from outside the door and saw Liz come in soon after. I glanced at the clock. She was home from her modeling job three hours early today. Suddenly, she screamed at me and accused me of popping my gum.  
  
I asked her if there was a problem, and I popped my gum again. Boy, did she seem steamed up about something. Just the sight of her pathetic angered body made me grin a little. But that only made her angrier, I think.  
  
Then she said, "Bernie, if you pop that gum one more time...."  
  
She was actually threatening me? That was a real laugh. "Whatcha gonna do?" I asked her mockingly, popping my gum again to annoy her. I watched her cross the room to the mantle above the fireplace.  
  
When she turned around, she was holding a shotgun. My eyes widened I saw her pull the trigger--  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A/N: dun dun DUNNNNNN! is this okay? or stupid, or what? plz review!! o, and from now on, i am going 2 have the stories told from the POV of the woman, 2. ok? ok. 


	2. Six

A/N: BWA HA HAA!!! more from this messed up story!!!! NEE HEEE HEEEEE!!! (sry i'm a little crazy right now)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about two years ago--and he told me he was single, so we hit it off right away. So we started livin' together. He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd make him a drink, then fix dinner.... then I found out. Single he told me--single my ass. Not only was he married- -oh no. He had six wives. One of those Mormons, y'know? So one night, he came, and I fixed him his drink....you know some guys just can't hold their arsenic.  
  
*****************  
  
I was walking down the street one day, and my eyes suddenly rested upon this guy. A really handsome looking guy, I have to say. He grinned at me, and, intrigued, I walked over.  
  
"Sorry, but have you....are you from around here?" I asked awkwardly. "I know nearly everyone in the area, but I don't quite recognize you."  
  
Grinning shyly, he said, "I'm from Salt Lake City, actually. Utah. I've never been to Chicago before. It's a very interesting city though, I can tell."  
  
"I've got a friend from Salt Lake City," I said. "What's your name?"  
  
"Ezekiel Young," he answered.  
  
"I'm Annie Smith. How'd you like a little tour of the city, Mr. Young?"  
  
"I'd love it."  
  
So we spent basically the whole day together. I could tell he was into me, because he kept staring at me with this look in his eyes that sort of said, "You're hot stuff, but how do I say it?" It was considerably awkward that we had just met and already we were acting like we'd been friends since childhood.  
  
"How long have you lived in Chicago?" he asked me.  
  
"Oh, ever since I was about two, I think," I answered. "My family moved here from Albany."  
  
"Albany, eh? Very interesting."  
  
"Yes, isn't it? Unfortunately, I can't remember anything about it." I neglected to mention the fact that I was forced to live with my sisters and my mother, whom we all helped support. It was very embarrassing--he didn't ask about it, though. Well, until he said,  
  
"Do you have a husband living with you?" Odd way to phrase the question, wasn't it? I certainly thought so.  
  
I was a little taken aback by the question, but I think I hid my surprise well. "Um, actually, I'm not married. Still flying solo."  
  
"Really? So am I--single." He winked at me, and I felt my heart fluttering.  
  
After we'd had dinner, we called for a taxi, and he gave the driver a street name. "And I'll tell you when to stop."  
  
"So what brought you out here to Illinois anyway, Mr. Young?" I asked curiously. I was about to bat my eyelashes flirtatiously, but changed my mind at the last minute (making what turned out to be one really long blink).  
  
"Please, just call me Ezekiel," he said politely. "I had a rich aunt who lived out here and she died recently. She always said that I had been her favorite nephew, so she left all her estate to me. I arrived here yesterday, and found the house in perfect order."  
  
"Well, that's nice."  
  
"Yes, but I've still yet to be able to find my way around this place," he said. "Ah, here we are."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"My place," he answered, getting out of the cab, paying the driver and walking to the front door.  
  
I sat there in shock. "YOUR place!?" I asked him. "You--you mean--we just hang around the city, have dinner, a few drinks, shoot some pool and then--you--YOUR PLACE?!"  
  
He sighed as he unlocked the door. "Are you coming?"  
  
"......yeah."  
  
********  
  
After that it was basically daily routine. He went off to work, I stayed home and did basically nothing. Then he would come late at night, I'd make him a drink, we'd have dinner, and then we'd do....just whatever. Normally he'd sit on a chair and read the paper and I'd stare at him while he did it.  
  
Not much fun. I was beginning to get bored, but I felt bad about two- timing Ezekiel. He'd never do something like that to me. He was from Utah, for heaven's sakes, he wasn't bred like that.  
  
Then one day I went out for lunch with my friend Ethel--the one who had lived in Salt Lake City previously.  
  
"Annie, I've been dying to tell you about this guy that Sally knows!" Ethel said over some coffee. Sally was her sister. "He's got these amazing blue eyes, and gorgeous blonde hair, and he--"  
  
"Sorry, Ethel," I sighed. "I've already got a guy I'm stuck with."  
  
"Really? Who?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, he's from Salt Lake."  
  
"Oh, maybe I'd know him. What's his name."  
  
"Ezekiel Young," I said, drawling out the name and slumping in my chair.  
  
"What??" Ethel asked, immediately perking up. "Ezekiel Young?!"  
  
I sat up, surprised by her surprise. "Yeah, why? What's it to you? D'you know him at all?"  
  
"Only about every respectable woman in Salt Lake knew him!" Ethel scoffed.  
  
I stared at her in confusion. "Well then how the heck did you?"  
  
She glared at me for a long time. Then she suddenly laughed. "Wait a minute! Are you afraid to go out with another guy because you don't want to double cross Ezekiel? Is that why you won't meet Sally's friend?"  
  
"Well....yeah," I said uncomfortably. Isn't that what a good girlfriend was supposed to do?"  
  
"My dear, Ezekiel is six-timing you!"  
  
My mouth dropped, probably making me look like a complete idiot. "WHAT?! What's that supposed to mean?!"  
  
"He was always a sick little creature," Ethel sniffed. "He believed in the old old old traditions of his religion. Said Mormons still ought to have more than wife. So he scattered them out around the country, telling each one that he was always off on a business trip, just to visit another."  
  
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I said, holding up a hand. "Are you telling me that Ezekiel Young has SIX WIVES?!"  
  
"Well, yes," Ethel answered. "But not so loud, Annie--people are beginning to stare at you."  
  
"And he justifies that by saying its his religion?" I asked in disbelief. Ethel nodded and I continued to speak. "But Ethel--you're Mormon, aren't you? I thought you told me that bigomy stopped decades ago!"  
  
"It did!" Ethel said. "I told you, Ezekiel believes in those old traditions!"  
  
I slammed my fist onto the table in anger. I wanted to throw my cup across the room and smash it across the wall, but I resisted the temptation.  
  
"Dear, if I were you, I'd get rid of him right away," Ethel advised me, patting my hand gently.  
  
By that, I think she meant I should just dump him. But I had other thoughts in my head already.....  
  
*********  
  
"Annie, I'm home," came the familiar voice from the front hallway. I smiled and hugged him as he hung up his coat and hat.  
  
"Come on into the living room, I already made your drink for you," I said, leading him a little forcefully into the next room.  
  
"Um, okay...." He took a seat at one end of the table, and took one at the other. Then Ezekiel took a long gulp of the liquid, still grinning. Then he set down the glass, and his eyes widened a bit. He stared at me in shock, then fell to the floor.  
  
I walked over to him. He tried to talk, but could only mouth the word, "Why?" I responded, "Six wives!!"  
  
Then his face suddenly went blank. I lifted his arm up and it dropped back down without hesitation. Perfect.  
  
*****Ezekiel's point of view******  
  
When I came through the front door, Annie walked towards me with an unusually large smile on her face, but I thought nothing of it. She embraced me once I had put away my things, and told me she'd made me a drink.  
  
Then rather roughly, she led me into the living room. We sat down at opposite ends of the table, and she watched me as I picked up the glass. I noticed something of a small smirk tug at the corners of her mouth, but it looked only like an innocent smile. So, I nonchalantly downed almost half of the drink.  
  
Suddenly the insides of my body began to wretch. My breathing started coming out irregularly. My eyes bulged out, as Annie chuckled softly and watched me fall down to the floor. She walked over to me and looked down at me like I was vermin.  
  
I opened and closed my mouth, trying to say something, but no words came out. Then her expression turned angry.  
  
"Six wives!" she suddenly shouted.  
  
How had she found out? I didn't know....but suddenly I felt my heart failing me and I couldn't think anymore.....  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~***~  
  
A/N: ok, that ending REALLY sucked. but u know wat? i dont care. plz review if u want any more of this from me! 


	3. Squish

A/N: WAH HA HAAA! FINALLY, I UPDATE!! i'm so glad this stupid chapter is FINALLY OUT OF THE WAY!!! anywho, on with the story.  
  
Now I'm standing in the kitchen carving up a chicken for dinner, MINDING my own business. In storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage. 'You been screwin' the milkman' he says--he was cray-zy! But he just kept on screamin, 'You been screwin' the milkman!' ..... And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times.  
  
I've had a relatively good life. My marriage was nice. Well, at least it was for a while.  
  
I met Wilbur Brown when I was dropping out of high school. We met in a speak easy. You see, he played a bit of clarinet, and was a musician in the pit. I used to go to speak easies all the time, and I'd sit in the same seat, thinking how handsome that clarinet player was.  
  
Ah, jazz. It's a wonderful thing.  
  
So one day--erm, night--I finally had the gall to go up and talk to him. He was on one of his breaks, and I caught his eye as he sat down at a table alone. He looked at me, I motioned for him to come sit.  
  
"You like it here, don't you?" he asked.  
  
"This is my sanctuary," I said with a laugh. "I like coming here just to get away from it all, y'know?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And to have a drink." We both laughed. Geez, he was handsome. I couldn't stop staring at him (I'm sure I looked stupid). "How long have you worked here?"  
  
"Oh, a couple weeks, I guess," he answered, shrugging. "What's your name, kid?"  
  
"June," I answered, inhaling sharply.  
  
"June...?" he asked, prompting me for a last name.  
  
"Just June."  
  
"Ah. Well, in that case, my name's Wilbur." He shook my hand.  
  
"Nice to finally meet you, Wil."  
  
"Bur," he finished for me. "Wilbur. Not Wil." He smiled. Then, suddenly, the band struck up again.  
  
"Hey, they're playing without you," I acknowledged, telling him something that was painfully obvious. I winced at my stupidity.  
  
"Yeah, I know," Wilbur said, smiling again. "I told 'em there was a girl out here I wanted to dance with, and they agreed to play my favorite song for me. The conductor's a good friend of mine."  
  
"Who's the girl?" I asked.  
  
Wilbur stood up. "You, of course. Wanna dance?"  
  
I was so embarrassed, but I stood up anyway and took the hand he had extended towards me. He danced the Charleston pretty well, and it was a little difficult for me to keep up with him. When he stopped briefly for a breath, I did a move I'd seen in another speakeasy once.  
  
"Wow!" he said. "Where'd you learn that?"  
  
"I saw one of the Kelly sisters do it once," I told him. "Veronica, I think."  
  
"You mean the dead one?" he asked, as he twirled with me again.  
  
"Well, she wasn't dead at the time," I said. While we were dancing, I began thinking about that Velma Kelly. Honestly, how could she just go and kill her own sister and husband, just like that? Had she a reason? I couldn't remember .... oh well. I knew that no matter what, I would never do such a thing to anybody.  
  
Who wants to get landed in jail?  
  
Two weeks later  
  
I've been seeing Wilbur regularly now. We know each other pretty well, I'd say. I saw him swimming one day, and let me tell you--that guy is gorgeous!! Really! I don't think I've ever seen abs like that. I was really mortified, though, when he finally got around to noticing me staring at him.  
  
Anyway, he finally popped the question one fateful night. I really couldn't believe it when he asked me to marry him. I was so shocked; me being the kind of girl who never imagines herself being a wife. Of course I agreed, and we actually had a small wedding a week later.  
  
For a long time, we were pretty happy. We were hitting it off really well. Although for a short time, I had feeling he was seeing someone else; this girl down the street named Charlotte Spyd. But I knew Wilbur would never do something like that to me.  
  
It's funny, actually. Our milk man has been walking past our house a lot. Like, more than he should be. Sometimes he's not even in his truck, but he just circles the block, and always stares up at the house. Word is that he gets drunk often, and it's not unusual to find him wandering off somewhere, lost.  
  
Then, one morning, he made a grab for me. Threw his arms around my waist and tried to kiss me. Fortunately for me, he was weak enough to be thrown off. He went rolling backwards down the front steps, and I stood against the house, heaving deep breaths.  
  
"Get outta here!" I said. "Get out!"  
  
He limped quickly to his truck and sped out of sight. I stared back up at the house, praying that Wilbur hadn't seen anything. He was the type who might misconstrue something he didn't see first-hand. That was the one problem with Wilbur.  
  
Then came that day. The day the milk man got around to his booze and started telling lies. He told the club that we had been seeing each other lately. He didn't notice that Wilbur was my husband; let alone notice my presence.  
  
But the way I hear it, Wilbur laid a well-placed punch on the milk man's face, sending him flying backwards into the counter. This subsequently caused a concussion.  
  
Now picture me. Alone at home, minding my own business. And I was making chicken, for heaven's sakes, Wilbur's favorite food. So here I am, thinking of how pleased he'll be, only to see him storm into the kitchen like a raging bull.  
  
"Honey, what's the matter?" I asked. Then I realized that he must've heard about what happened between me and the milk man, and misunderstood it. I swear, his expression made me feel like he was about to whip out a gun and plug me, just like Velma had done to Charlie.  
  
"You've been screwin' the milk man!" he stuttered.  
  
"What?!" I asked in shock, even though this is what I had been expecting. This was insane! Unethical! "You're crazy!"  
  
"I said you've been screwin' the milk man, June!" he shouted. "I won't have my wife walkin' around like a tramp and disgracing me in front of all my friends!"  
  
"I didn't do anything, Wilbur!"  
  
"Then how come he seemed pretty sure about it?!"  
  
"Wilbur, who are you going to believe?! Your wife or the drunken ravings of a stupid milk man?!"  
  
"I don't know what to believe any more June, you slut!" he shouted, looking ready to strike me.  
  
But I cut him to the chase. I picked up a knife and turned around, but he was standing right there and so my knife went right through him. His eyes bulged out, and his mouth dropped. I withdrew the blade slowly, and crimson blood came pouring out. But once wasn't enough for me; he had to pay for what he had called me. I stabbed him again and again, nine more times.  
  
On the bridge of hyperventilating, I heard the knife fall from my hands with a clatter. I looked down and saw Wilbur lying on the ground, dead as a doornail (how dead IS a doornail, anyway?). Then I turned around and continued to carve the chicken.  
  
Wilbur's POV  
  
I was gonna kill her. I was going to KILL her! That slut, thinking she could screw the milkman right behind my back. I wonder if she ever knew I'd find out. Though when I first heard it in the club, I must say that I sure gave that guy one good punch.  
  
It didn't really help that it was raining--in fact it only made me more angry and depressed. I'd done everything for June, and she was just throwing it in my face. My foot pushed harder on the pedal, eager to get home.  
  
I entered the front door and slammed it as hard as I could. This would certainly warn June that I was in a bad mood. I walked defiantly down the hall, and I heard the sounds of her making dinner. Sure enough, I walked into the kitchen and saw her humming and carving a chicken.  
  
Immediately she sensed that something was awry. She asked me what was wrong, as if she didn't know.  
  
So I accused her of, well, screwing the milkman. As I imagined, she looked shocked. I knew she'd pretend to be surprised, hoping I'd fall for her gag and she would get off easy. But there was no way I would let her do that. Then June REALLY toed the line when she called me crazy.  
  
"I said you've been screwin' the milk man, June!" I shouted. "I won't have my wife walkin' around like a tramp and disgracing me in front of all my friends!" Man, she deserved to be yelled at.  
  
"I didn't do anything, Wilbur!" she cried. If I hadn't been so angry, maybe I would've believed her.  
  
But I was determined to make my point. We continued shouting at each other for a while, and then she turned her back to me. Enraged, I stormed towards her. Suddenly, June whipped around with a knife in her hand. I don't think she knew I was standing right there, because the knife plunged into my stomach.  
  
However, this seemed to make her happy. She drew out the knife, then stabbed me over and over again...  
  
------------------------  
  
A/N: well, i hope that wasnt 2 horrible. plz review!! 


	4. Uh Uh

A/N: okay, this is hunyak's chap. the hungarian one. since i dont know hungarian, the chap's in english. when characters r talking in hungarian, it will be like this '....' . if they're speaking in english, it'll be like this "...." . that's how u can tell the difference, if u can tell. i think this is my fav. chap so far.

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What am I doing here? They say my famous lover held down my husband and I chopped his head off. But it's not true. I am innocent. I don't know why Uncle Sam says I did it. I tried to explain at the police station but they didn't understand

Mit keresek én itt? Azt mondják, a híres lakóm lefogta a férjem, én meg lecsaptam a fejét. De nem igaz. Én ártatlan vagyok. Nem tudom, miért mondja Uncle Sam, hogy én tettem. Próbáltam a rendõrségen megmagyarázni, de nem értették meg. (A/N: the last time i tried using weird characters on this site, some of the letters just come out as question marks. but that's the hungarian version... this chapter WILL b in english, btw).

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I had never been more happy in my life when that night came. Nikolas and I had just gone to see an opera show and had a fantastic time. Now we were alone, in my apartment.

'Darling, you know I love you,' he whispered, as I hung up my coat.

'Yes,' I said, taking a seat in an armchair. He leaned towards me and kissed my neck. I closed my eyes and grabbed his shoulders. We looked at me briefly, then I kissed him ardently.

Nikolas swept me up in his arms, and carried me over to my bed. I laughed and broke away from him as he set me down.

'Nik, don't let's do anything naughty!' I giggled.

'My dear, I had no intention of it,' he said, smiling genuinely. I watched in amazement as he got down on one knee before me. "Hunyak, my dearest ...."

'Nikolas,' I whispered, every fiber of my praying that he was going to say what I hoped he was.

'Would you please bring some light into this poor soul's life and marry me?' he asked. Before I could say anything, he took a small black box out of his coat pocket and opened it before me.

'Oh...' was all I could breath as I stared.

A small, little, diamond was perched on a golden band in the form of a ring. I looked at Nikolas, who was staring at me, biting down on his lower lip. As if he thought I might even consider saying no.

'Of course I will, Nikolas,' I sobbed, getting down onto my knees as well. He laughed with relief, and we knelt there together; embracing and laughing, kissing and crying. I had never felt so many emotions at once.

'I don't know what I'd have done if you'd said no,' he whispered. 'I probably would've jumped out a window or something.'

'You must not joke about such things!' I reprimanded him seriously. 'It's bad luck! Say a prayer, quickly!'

'God, please spare me from myself so that I may live the rest of my life with this woman before me,' Nikolas said, a silly grin plastered onto his face. 'Oh Hunyak, how can I even hope to be serious at a time like this?'

'Dearest...' I whispered, resting my chin on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I could.

He inhaled deeply, then stood up. 'Well, we must start to get ready.'

'For what?' I asked stupidly, standing up.

'To prepare the wedding, my little genius,' he laughed, flicking me playfully on the nose. 'I'll go speak to the minister.'

'Now? But it's so late at night,' I began.

'So? It's never to late for holy matrimony!!' Nikolas laughed. He winked at me and kissed me again.

'You--you're not thinking of getting married toNIGHT, are you?' I asked him in pure shock and disbelief.

'No, not right now, silly,' he said with a smile. 'We need time to invite all our family and friends.'

'Of course,' I said quietly, grinning helplessly.

'Hunyak...before we do get married, you won't .... you won't do anything with someone ... else, would you?' Nikolas asked me apprehensively. 'I mean, cause I know you wouldn't do that as soon as we were married, so you wouldn't want to cram something in before we did, would you?'

I was shocked that he would even think such a thing of me. 'Do think me so low?!' I asked incredulously, insulted. 'Nik, I can't believe you'd be stupid enough to ask me something as dirty as that!'

'I am sorry,' he apologized quickly. 'It's just that you're so pretty, and I know that several men would kill to get their hands on you.'

'Nik, who do you think I am?' I laughed. 'Veronica Kelly?'

Nikolas looked at me, then smiled again. 'I'm sorry, dear. I'll see you tomorrow!' He kissed me once on the cheek, then walked out the door.

I spun about the room in my happiness. I couldn't believe it--Nikolas and I were getting married! The very idea seemed just unbelievable to me. I ran to the window and drew the curtains. I opened it, and screamed into the night about my joy.

Then I withdrew with embarrassment. One of my neighbors had been on her balcony as well, and was staring at me in confusion. I had forgotten everyone here only spoke English. I haven't met anyone who knows Hungarian yet (except for Nikolas, of course, but he doesn't count because he came here with me).

"Wait," said the woman from outside. I didn't know what she wanted, but she didn't sound angry. Timidly, I stepped back outside. "What's your name?" she asked.

I gulped and started to sweat, in spite of the cold night air. What did she want?

I think she sensed I hadn't understood because she smiled understandingly. But I still didn't know what to say.

"I....no English," I said choked, shaking my head.

"Oh," I heard her breathe. "I am Annie Smith. What's your name?" she asked loudly, speaking to me as if I was a very stupid toddler. I knew she didn't mean to insult me, but I still wasn't quite sure what she meant. I pointed to myself and raised my eyebrows. She smiled and nodded--a universal language.

"I....am....Hunyak," I forced out. I felt very embarrassed when she laughed.

"Hunyak? Sounds like a Chinese warrior beast," she said. I looked down, humiliated by my terrible language, as she continued to laugh. "But it's more exotic and interesting than Annie, I'll give you that." Then she realized how nervous and sad I looked. Immediately she stopped laughing. "I'm sorry, you probably can't understand a thing I'm saying, can you?"

Shaking, I looked back at her. "No....English," I repeated, telling her some of the few words I actually knew.

Annie smiled. "S'okay, kid." She looked up as the door opened. "Oooh, Ezekiel!" she cried. She turned back to me, and said, "Bye, Hunyak!" then she ran inside and I heard her shut the balcony door.

"Bye...?" I said, wondering if I'd gotten it right. I shrugged and stepped back inside. She didn't seem like such a bad person. Then I saw the ring laying in the box on the floor, and my old happiness was rekindled.

-----------------------------------

Three days after that, Nikolas and I were married. I couldn't believe it--it really seemed to have gone by so fast.

'We'll spend the night in your apartment,' he said to me, as we drove away from the church. 'Then we can go on our honeymoon!'

'Oh, I'm so excited!' I breathed. I was also so glad that Nikolas knew English much better than I. Of course, he'd gone to school here and I hadn't.

We walked into the apartment, laughing. I opened a cupboard and gasped. 'Look at that, Nik! There isn't a crumb in the place!'

'I guess we'll be eating out tonight,' he laughed.

'No, no,' I said hurriedly. I hated eating in restaurants, because I felt so embarrassed by my bad English. 'I'll go get something at the store.' At least at a store I didn't need to speak much. I could handle money.

'Okay,' Nikolas said. 'Hurry back soon, dear.'

'I will!' I threw an arm around his neck, kissed him on the lips and then sped out the door. The sooner I left, the sooner I could get back. On my way down the stairs, I bumped into a large man with a heavy-looking bag on his back.

"Sorry!" I managed to utter, another word I had learned to appreciate. He grumbled as he continued on his way up and I flew down the staircase.

At the store I decided to splurge a little. It had been our wedding this afternoon, after all. I got steak and cabbages, and even a bottle of champagne. At first I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough money by the time I got to the cash register, but I dug up that extra quarter out of my coat pocket.

Smiling happily, I walked back home. I headed back up the stairs with my bag, humming a song I had heard someone play on the radio once. I set down the bag of groceries and dug about my pocket for the key to the apartment. I couldn't find it.

'Oh no!' I sighed, finding a hole in my coat pocket. I sighed, knowing it must've fallen out. 'Nikolas!' I called. 'Let me in, I forgot my key.' But no one came. I tapped my foot impatiently, when suddenly a pungent smell filled my nonstrils.

Surprised, I backed up. It smelled like .... blood?

Then the door opened. Horror-stricken, I saw the man I'd bumped into before step out and look at me. He was holding a bloody knife. "He owed me money," he said. I didn't know what he meant, but he stepped out of my way, pocketed the weapon, and tromped back down the stairs.

I ran into the apartment and screamed. There on the floor lay Nikolas--with his head on the floor, seperated from the rest of his body. I put my hands to my face and screamed again in horror. "NIKOLAS!!" I shouted. "NIKOLAS!!" My terror mounted as my eyes traveled from his body to his dismembered head.

Shaking and crying, I fell to the floor and crawled towards his body. I wrapped my arms around it, though terrified. My fingers squeezed the blood out of his sweater, and I choked loudly. Then I dropped him, and some of his blood splashed onto me. Shakily, I stood up.

I ran to a drawer and took out a knife. This was all happening blindingly fast; but if Nikolas was dead, I might as well be too. I rose the weapon to my neck just as I heard someone call my name from the door way.

"Hunyak!!" I saw Annie rush towards me, and I dropped the knife in surprise. Neither of us noticed as it clattered in a pool of blood by Nikolas' neck. "What in the name of Heaven happened?!"

'I don't know!' I shouted desperately in Hungarian. 'I didn't do it, Annie! He was-- a man, a man killed him that Nikolas owed money to--I didn't do anything, I--"

"Oh Mary and Joseph!!" Annie shouted, running to the window. She looked at a car outside. "Run, sister! The cops!" I stared at her in fright, still not knowing what I was supposed to do. "Run! RUN!!" She motioned at me with her hand, and I understood that she wanted me to leave.

I looked once more at my beloved Nikolas' body, then ran for the door. I was stopped, however, by a large man in a blue suit. I screamed and stepped back. Annie caught me before I fell.

"A man down the street just tipped us off," the man said. "He said a man's wife was planning on killing her husband tonight .... aided by her lover..." He stared at Annie.

"Hey, she didn't do anything!" Annie yelled.

"Well then what's that knife right there?!" the man in blue shouted, pointing to the floor in disgust.

Annie and I looked down at it--it was the knife I had planned on using to kill myself with, now completely covered with Nik's blood.

"Oh no," Annie whispered under her breath. "Sir, I swear, this isn't what it looks like, really--"

"Oh really?" he asked, putting his fists to his hips. "Listen Missy, this little woman's got blood on her hands! Now tell me THAT'S innocent!"

I had no idea what was going on; I was so afraid; but I saw Annie look at my hands for the first time. And I looked at them, as well--they were also splattered with Nikolas' blood. Annie stared at me with an odd expression on her face.

"I tell you, the man who tipped you off sit this up!" Annie protested weakly. "He's the guilty one!"

"SHE is guilty!" the man shouted, pointing at me. "GUILTY!!"

I looked at him, scared. I hadn't understood barely a word exchanged between the two of them. But whatever it is, I knew it was bad. "Not guilty!" I cried. "I not guilty!"

"Yeah, explain that to the state troops!" the man said, grabbing my arm viciously and dragging me out the door.

"NIKOLAS!!" I continued to scream. "NO!! NO!! NOT GUILTY!"

"We've got quite the actress here," the man said to someone dressed similarly to him. "She killed his husband--got a friend sticking up for her; go check it out."

"Sure."

"NO!!!"

But the next thing I knew, I had been thrown into a car with steel bars in the back. My breathing was very heavy, as I looked all around me. What were they doing with me? Where was I going? And what about Nikolas??

I blanched as a man stuck his hand into all of my pockets. "No key," he muttered to someone else. "Probl'y planning on running away as soon as the crime was done."

"Yeah."

And the next thing I knew, I was on what they called Murderer's Row.

A few weeks later, I was shocked to see Annie in a cell near me. From what I gathered, she'd been arrested for the same reason as I. Only she was guilty--and had admitted to it.

For weeks, I cried myself to sleep. My poor Nikolas.

------------------------------

A/N: no husband's pt. of view on this one. basically, the dude just walked in and slashed his throat. the end. besides, this chap. is long enough. poor nik, eh? neway, plz plz plz review & tell me wat u think!!


	5. Cicero

A/N: phew! time for the long-awaited Velma Kelly story! I hope you like it, because I know it was highly anticipated!

---------------Velma-----------------------

My sister Veronica and I had this double act, and my husband Charlie traveled around with us. Now for the last number in our act we did these 20 acrobatic tricks in a row: one, two, three, four, five, splits, spread-eagles, back-flips, flip-flops, one right after the other. So this one night before the show we're at the hotel Cicero, the three of us boozin', having a few laughs, and we ran out of ice, so I run out to get some. I come back, open the door, and there's Veronica and Charlie doing number 17, the spread-eagle. Well, I was in such a state of shock that I completely blacked out; I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead.

--------------------------------------

When one is in the sort of business I'm in, it's sort of hard to settle down with a guy. It's like you never know what it is they're after. Do they really like YOU, or ... well, y'know, something else. It's like always chasing a false dream.

Anyway, my sister Veronica is sort of the more wild one out of the two of us. I swear, she brought home a different man every night. But that's not the kind of relationship I was looking for.

No, I wanted more. I wanted someone who actually loved me. ME, not just my body. I don't see how people can live like that .... just meeting someone and thinking you guess they're sort of neat, and then, WHAM! The next thing you know, all they want is your body. They don't even care what you're like.

That's not what I wanted. I wanted commitment (something my sister has always laughed at). She told me I'd never find a husband, and that got me so angry that I was even more determined to get married.

So boy did I get her. I found this swell guy who worked at a speak easy down town. His name was Charlie Fenton. He said I was a good dancer, and he didn't have that eerie glint in his eye that most guys have. I smiled, and he laughed.

By next week he had asked me out for dinner. Needless to say, I accepted and rubbed it in my sister's face. She muttered something about me regretting something, but I just laughed at her and walked out the door for my date.

I couldn't believe it. I had actually met a gentlemen. We had a lovely time at dinner, and boy did Veronica steam when I told her all about it!

He took me to this fancy place, you know, where the font on the menu is so curly and elegant that you can barely read it. Charlie ended up ordering for both of us, and I barely even took note of what I was eating while we talked.

I've never had such an easy time talking to a man before. Normally it's all awkward and quiet, and you're waiting for the inevitable, but our list of things to talk about never seemed to end.

We started off with a discussion about the political scheme of things nowadays, D. W. Griffith, that ridiculous Prohibition Act, whether we liked Lillian Gish or Mary Pickford better, and eventually he came to ask me why I did what I did.

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking a long sip of champagne.

"I mean ....why do you .... dance in those sleazy costumes in sleazy speak-easies, getting guys all excited?"

"Oh," I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I dunno. I can't really do anything else. Veronica and I don't really have any family besides each other, and it was the only thing it seemed we could do."

"You'd make a very nice secretary," Charlie said, grinning at me. "It's basically a requirement that you be lovely, and you, my dear, would fit that description perfectly."

"You flatter me," I laughed. "But it's funny you should mention it--I actually did consider being a secretary at one time. But my typing is atrocious. About ten words a minute. No exaggerating."

"Really? Well squelch that idea," he chuckled.

"Yeah," I giggled. "So this friend of my sister's told us we ought to work at the place he sells drinks. So we sort of started out as waitresses, but then one night he saw me dancing on the stage .... the place was empty--or so I had thought--and so I just started to do a little bit of Charleston, y'know?

"Then I realized he had been watching me. So I quickly stopped, but then he asked me to go on. So, I did. Then Veronica ran up there with me, and we just kept on dancing."

"Where'd you learn how to dance?" Charlie asked.

"We used to take lessons," I replied. "My mother was determined that we do something honorable in our lives, and she thought a dancer was as good as a woman could get." I laughed sourly, thinking of the irony. "I guess the joke's on her, though ..."

There was silence for just a moment, as both of us waited for the other to speak. Charlie inhaled deeply, then said, "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me."

"Do it again sometime?"

"Sure."

----

Anyway, I was glad things were coming along so well with him. Veronica seemed to be jealous, and she was very distant. She had never seemed to mind all those other men, before, though .... perhaps she just wanted me to be unhappy. But what kind of sister would want that?

So lately, she'd been doing more of the rub-your-torso-in-every-man's-face and I had been singing and dancing alone. My smiles were no long fake, but I just thought of Charlie and that would always make me happier.

Until that one night.

Well, first I should tell you that Charlie and I got married. For the sake of my stage name, I kept the last name Kelly, but it was still official. So now he traveled around with us, tagging along, and I was almost never without him.

Life seemed pretty perfect--which is always a sign that something will very soon go very wrong.

The three of us had been busy all day. Charlie checking all the hotels, and Veronica and I performing like dogs. I'd never worked so hard in my life, it seemed. All I wanted was to flop down in a bed and relax.

Charlie drove up to the bar, and we were waiting outside for him. He got out, and then walked over to me and kissed me. "Hello, beautiful."

"Hiya, hon," I laughed. "You get us a good hotel?"

"Yeah, it's swell," he answered, ushering Veronica and I into the car. "It's called Cicero. Seems great."

"What a relief," Veronica sighed from the back seat. She took of her shoe and stretched her thing leg up between Charlie and I. We both glanced at it, then she said, "I am SO tired."

"I hear that," I said, tapping her leg lightly. She pulled back, and I saw her scowl slightly in the rear view mirror. I frowned, wondering what her problem was.

Once we had gotten checked in, Veronica waltzed into our room with a few bottles of alchohol. "Whoops, am I interrupting something?" she giggled.

Charlie, who had been kissing me just moments before, laughed. "Naw, come on in."

I grimaced, annoyed by the interruption, but didn't say anything. Veronica skipped in, and got a few glasses out of the bathroom.

"You two up for a drink?" she asked.

"Sure," I responded. "I could use one."

"Yeah, okay," Charlie agreed.

So she poured some for all of us, and for the first time, one glass just didn't seem enough for me. I asked for another, and so did Charlie.

We began to have along talk, joking about this and that. How much longer would we remain in our jobs, what would Charlie Chaplin do next, and yadda yadda.

"Oh dear, we're out of ice," Veronica said in a slurred tone. "Sorry, I was just gonna get you another drink, Velms."

"I'll get some more," I volunteered. I stood up and headed for the door. Laughing stupidly as I walked out, I said, "You kids be good while I'm gone!"

Smiling to myself, I went to get some more ice. Then I came back, and I froze in the doorway at what I saw:

Well, actually, it was pretty graphic. All I knew, though, was that Veronica and Charlie were definately making some rough love. They didn't even seem to notice I was there. I dropped the ice on the floor, and it swished around--they didn't hear it.

Veronica kept on giggling, and Charlie would chuckle occasionally. Biting my lip, I walked over to my husband's suitcase. Sure, they were drunk, but I didn't even stop to think about it.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had a gun in my hands. And with two quick shots, they lay in a bloody heap on the bed. I stared at them, then at the weapon in my hands. I quickly dropped it.

Angrily, I walked over to the bed and pulled Charlie's head out from between my sister's legs. I kicked him onto the floor, then punched my sister several times in the head. I was crying with anger, screaming wordlessly. Blood was getting all over me, but I didn't care.

Suddenly I remembered: I had a show to put on tonight. That is, WE had a show to put on. Veronica would never stand on stage again, and it slowly dawned on me what I had done.

'They deserved it,' I thought to myself. I distractedly ran my hands under the water of the sink in the bathroom, not doing a thorough job. Then I ran out into the hallway, my fists buried deep in the pockets of my coat. I bumped into a couple people in the hall, tears still streaming down my face.

"What happened?!" a man asked. "I heard gunshots and screams coming from downstairs!"

"It's terrible!" I cried hysterically. "My husband and my sister--both dead! Somebody shot them, but I don't know who! I've got to get to the police!"

Then I continued to run away, hoping he had believed my lie. I flew down the steps and outside. I managed to wave down a taxi, and calmed down a bit on the ride. I wiped the tears hastily off my face. No one must no what had happened. At least, not until I had done tonight's performance.

I got out of the cab, gave the driver a quarter and a muttered "Thanks", then stalked towards the building. On my way, I angrily ripped a poster bearing mine and Veronica's name on it. That name sickens me .... but it couldn't get in the way of what I had to do tonight.

Sister or no sister, the show must go on.

--------Author's Note-------

Yeah, I know, I sort of stopped showing the husband's point of view...but it was hard with Charlie. I'll probably do it in the last chapter. Don't worry. I hope this was okay! Please be a good soul and review!!


	6. Lipschitz, Roxie

--------------------Mona--------------------

I loved Al Lipshitz more than I could say. He was a real artistic type, a painter. He was always trying to find himself. He'd go out every night looking for himself. And on the way, he found Ruth. Gladys. Rosemary. And Irving. I guess you could say we broke up because of artistic differences. He saw himself as alive. And I saw him dead.

-----------------------------------------------

A/N: ok. Due to total lack of inspiration for this chapter, I'm putting a twist. Well, actually, to make a long story short--Mona gets cheated on, Mona strangles guy. The End. Interesting, ne? Anyway, this chapter is all about the women's impressions of Roxie and their reflections of what they did themselves. This'll be short, but this story's gotta end!

--Liz--

There's a new girl here today. Poor little kid looks scared half to death. I should remember to ask her what she's in for. Mama Morton seems to like her well enough, though, which is a good sign. I hear her name's Roxie Hart. Pretty neat name, I think. Sounds almost like a stage name (if you ask me, it beats the crud out of the name Velma Kelly. But don't tell Velma I said that).

I was watching her watching us. She's in the cell across from me, and she just seems to be observing--sort of like she wants to ask, "What do you do for fun when you're in jail?" Like a lost puppy sort of look.

I'll bet she killed a guy. Obviously she killed someone, but the way she rocks back in forth with her hands clasped before her like that makes me think it was a guy. Although he probably did something worse than Bernie .... but then, as Mama says, there ain't a guy who got shot that didn't get exactly what was comin' to 'im.

But sometimes at night I can still hear him popping that gum....

--Annie--

Oh dear, I think Hunyak has seen me. She seemed like such a nice girl, and I wanted her to respect me. Now here I am caught on Murderer's Row, and she sees it. What must she think of me? She doesn't belong here .... she didn't do anything .... but I know the cops'd never believe me. Not to mention believe her.

That reminds me--new girl on the block. Mama got me a newspaper and I saw this girl's face spread on the front pages. Roxie Hart, I think was the name. Anyway, apparently she'd been cheating on her husband. But when she found out the guy she was having an affair with was a married man with kids, she was over-the-top with fury and shot him. Ironic, huh?

I mean, I had reason to poison Ezekiel, right? The creep was married--to six other women, no less! It had to be done .... he deserved it. Tricking us females, and not even following his own religion. I ask you--what kind of self-respecting Mormon does that?! My pal Ethel tells me that Mormons aren't polygamists anymore.

Jerk. JERK JERK JERK! That's all I can think about right now. But I'm trying to focus my attention on that Roxie kid now. She looks scared to death, poor kid. I don't think she was really conscious of what she was doing when she shot that guy. Otherwise she'd feel justified that she'd come here. I know that's how I felt.

Maybe she's like Hunyak ... maybe she didn't even do anything but got blamed for it anway. I'll have to remember to ask her about that. But I'll let things simmer down, first. Let her feel adjusted and ready to tell the truth.

I think I'll tell Roxie about what I did tonight. She's got a right to know about the kind of people she's hanging around with from now on.

--June--

I saw Velma eating chicken last night. I think Mama must've slipped it to her. It made me so angry .... it's just that every time I see chicken I think of the day that Wilbur died. The day he was murdered .... he had no right to make those accusations ....

Roxie Hart came today. I had seen her before, but had never known her personally. I wonder if she recognizes me. She used to hang out at the same juice joint as me--the one Wilbur played in.

It was Wil, actually, who told me who she was. He knew that Roxie was sort of crushing on one of his friends, a salesman named Fred Casely. Wilbur told me they were both married, but they were still having an affair anyway. Sick to think about, ain't it?

As the story goes (according to the Times, as Annie tells me), Roxie hadn't known that Fred was married. I thought she did. But she felt it was a crime that he hadn't told her, so she plugged him with lead. Sort of interesting. She didn't mind that SHE was married, but it mattered to her that he was .... or I guess she was mad because he used her.

Yeah, that was probably it. What a creep that Casely guy was. I'm glad Wilbur never introduced me to him.

--Hunyak--

A girl named Roxie Hart came today. The matron acted kindly towards her, although I think she was getting exasperated by the end. I'd tell Roxie what to expect here, but my English is not so good.

I wonder what happened to her? The others seem to have a pretty good idea, but then, they can all read newspapers. I can't. Annie had the Times, and I saw Roxie's face on the cover. I'll ask her if she can try to explain what happened. Not that I'll be able to understand ....

Every night I dream of what might have been with me and Nikolas .... if that one man had not ruined our happiness, just think of what we could have done! And now here I sit, in prison. And even though I do not know what the police are saying about me, I know that soon I will die.

But maybe that's for the better. I could be with Nikolas .... but I don't want to die! I'm much too young, and I know that Nikolas wants me to go on living! I miss him so much it hurts, but there is nothing I can do. I can only pray to God that he blesses my soul, whether or not I die.

It doesn't help that the other women don't believe me. Annie is the only one who does, but she was there and knew it wasn't me. These other girls--murderers--are so jaded and don't find it possible that I am not guilty. Maybe Roxie will believe me. She looks like she has sweet face, even if now it is screwed up in fear and guilt.

--Velma--

Ah, yes. Fresh meat at last. It's been so long since I've had a new girl around here to intimidate and boss around.

When Mama walked by today, I saw this blonde kid with her. I stopped Mama to show her an article about me, and this girl blurts out, "You're Velma Kelly! You are THE Velma Kelly! I was there that night you were arrested!"

"Yeah, you and half of Chicago," I had said distractedly. She was semi-ruining my moment of triumph.

I hear that her name's Roxie Hart. I think she shot some guy or something for using her. I guess it's a worthy cause, but she seems pretty frightened by this place. Poor little tramp.

The guy she shot reminded me a little bit of Charlie. Only not really. I don't know, it's just that it's like both of them used us. For the first time, I thought to myself, Did Charlie only use me so he could get to Veronica?

But that would be stupid for more reasons than one. First off, Veronica and I are almost exactly the same .... in the looks department, anyway. And secondly, they were both majorly drunk when they did that .... it's not like they wanted to....

Should I have shot them? I mean they were only drunk, that's all.

Curse that Roxie kid! Her case has got me all would up, maybe like I shouldn't have shot Velma and Charlie .... I think she's scared at the thought of being killed. I don't show it, but I am too. Fortunately, I've got me one darn good lawyer. His name's Billy Flynn, and he ain't never lost a case for a lady client. I hear Hunyak wants to get him, but there's no way she could afford him.

Since I made about five grand a month, it was easy for me to pay Mr. Flynn. It's a big price, but I'd like to pay it if it means my life. All I have to do is make sure Hart stays away from him. I'd better make sure she never hears about him.

--Mona--

That Lipschitz drives me insane. If I could kill him again, I would. To feel him struggle while I strangled him was one of the most wonderful moments of my life. Just thinking about him makes me want to vomit, so perhaps I should change the subject.

Roxie Hart came in today. She's a little blonde kid who sort of reminds me of a lost sheep. She decides to leave the herd for a little, just to taste that greener grass, but when she comes back it's like everything has changed. The herd won't talk to her anymore--in Roxie's case, it's her husband that I'm sure would like to see her dead.

But when I this idea to Velma, she only laughed. She tossed me an article on Hart, and there were a few lines suggesting that Amos .... I mean Andy ..... or is it Amos? Uh--that Mr. Hart was one of those suckers born every minute. In retrospect, I do remember Velma laughing hysterically now and then when she was reading the article.

I don't quite understand Velma. She seems to revel in other people's misery. I certainly don't--I feel bad for that Roxie kid, because she was stuck in a fix like me. Only she had been married, and I wasn't.

Lipschitz deserved what I got, and I'm sure Roxie felt the same way about that Fred Casely guy. I sure do. Any guy who does that kind of thing with a woman don't have no right living here on earth. They ain't go no right living with God, either, if you know what I mean.

Some people would argue that we women were just as much to blame, but that's ridiculous. A man takes advantage of us dames, and we aren't strong enough to battle them off. It's as simple as all that.

Right?

Of course .....

Ugh....I have a migraine and it won't go away....stupid Lipschitz...

---------------------THE END-------------------

A/N: yeah, i know, the ending's kinda weird. but i just was 2 bored 2 write mona's ending, so if u liked her best, i'm sry. use ur imagination and make up somethin' on ur own. have fun! plz don't 4get 2 review!!!!!


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